


The Lost Hunter

by Winchester_Werewolf



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural AU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mary Sue, daughter!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_Werewolf/pseuds/Winchester_Werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. When Dean left Lisa and Ben, he thought that he had taken everything with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Hunter

  
  
  
  
  
I had a father once; I had found a photo of him…at least I was pretty sure it was him. Ben looked about the right age, and Mom had looked so young. 

She looked a lot happier than what she was now. 

Mom was never happy; she never smiled that way in the photo all the time I’ve known her. She was sullen, and distant and spent most of her time in her living room. The average American person would find that weird, that Mom had her own living room, but it was Ben’s old room and it was her cave. She was a recluse nowadays, at least when she was at home but when she went out she was fine. At least, that’s what everyone else thought; she’d come home and lock herself away with wine or beer or any kind of alcohol she pulled out the discount bin.

Ben said she’d never used to be like this; that she’d been a Stepford mom; all smiles and apple pie. But then Dean left, Ben said, and Mom had never been the same since.  
  
Apparently she had been a _real_ mom. It made me jealous.

Mom had never been to my school plays, or thrown me birthday parties. Some years she didn’t buy me Christmas or birthday presents, but I had Ben for that. Mom wasn’t really a fan of the kitchen either, so I ended up cooking and doing the cleaning most of the time.

When I was younger I used to spend most nights alone because she’d go out to bars and nightclubs; that sort of thing. When, or if, she came home, she was generally with some random, faceless man who would leave in the morning. It was only in the past few years that she stopped going, because I guess, she realized she was getting too old for that kind of thing. Now she watched TV or read Harlequins she bought from the drug store, drinking whatever alcohol she had bought.  
  
I left her alone.

I was a mistake, a regret, and it was bad enough she had to put up with me.

Ben told me I shouldn’t think like that, that I was being self-destructive and that it wasn’t my fault Mom was this way. But in my heart I knew it was; it was probably the reason why my father left too. Ben didn’t like to talk about him, but I had learnt a few things from our conversations. His name was Dean, he had brother and that he had a nice car. He was also a hero. I didn’t know how, but Ben said he was, but he changed the subject when I asked why.

Ben didn’t like talking about ‘Dean’ as much as Mom did.

If I ever asked Mom about whom my father was she’d start screaming and throwing things at me and telling me to get out and never speak about him ever again. Several times she said I had no father and that she had given birth to me herself. That was when she was at her most drunken state. She refused to acknowledge anything about him, or tell me anything.

But one day, when she had refused to drive me to school because of her fatigue and her chronic stomach pains, I had started to dig around some boxes in the little loft above the bathroom. It was there I found my birth certificate, no father listed, and the photo. I pocketed both and locked them away in an old ammunition box I found in the shed that had a ‘kid-safe’ lock in it. It was more ‘every-one-without-the-key’ safe.

Mom had a habit of leaving my legal papers lying around my house and forgetting about them. I’d be starting junior high soon and I’d need my birth certificate, it was then I discovered I had a middle name. Deanna. It was a little odd. But I couldn’t help but feel a little smug I might have my father’s name even though it wasn’t my last name. Ben’s middle name was Matthew after our maternal grandfather. 

Ben didn’t know who his father was, but he often gave the impression he did, but it wasn’t proven. I knew for a fact he had his possible father’s phone number in his cell; when he still lived with Mom and me I’d seen him sit on the bench out the back and dial before hanging up. Sometimes he wouldn’t though, and the conversations could last a few minutes or stretch to several hours. Ben refused to discuss those phone calls with me.

Ben had gone to college three years ago, and was starting his honours in mechanical engineering and nursing. For planes and submarines, not just shitty ol’ cars like a mechanic.  The nursing was still a mystery to me, but he enjoyed it. I thought it was awesome having a big brother that was so smart, even though Ben said he wasn’t. I knew he was. Ben was the best big brother in the world. Last spring break, instead of going out with his girlfriend, he came all the way from UNE to take me to the carnival. He bought me my first stick of candyfloss, and rode with me on the Stomach Churner three times. We also shot cardboard ducks down with miniature shotguns that shot air-pellets; Ben won a pink fluffy teddy bear that had love hearts dyed into its fur, but I won the mega prize. I managed too shoot all of the ducks and the special deer target down, so I won a BB gun with pellets.

It was probably the first time I’d seen Ben so jealous!

The pimply teenage boy behind the counter had sniffed and said I’d cheated, but Ben had stood up for me and said that I had won it fair and square with pure, dead shot talent. When we went to get corn dogs after, I told him that he was crazy but he had just laughed and said,

“You do have a dead-shot, Ellie.”

That’s my name. Ellie. Well, it’s my nickname. My real name was Samantha, but I don’t like it and don’t respond to it anymore. Ben gave me the nickname Ellie because when I was three my favourite show was _Ellie the Elephant_ , and it had stuck. Mom hadn’t thrown a fuss and started calling me Ellie around the time Ben did. I thought she’d try and make people call me Samantha, but she didn’t. I was Ellie _Deanna_ Braeden, not Samantha Deanna Braeden.

It was such a stupid sounding name. Samantha Deanna.

Honestly, what was my mother thinking? Scratch that, she was probably drunk when she named me. Maybe she named me out of spite or something. I didn’t care. She could call me a slut and a waste of space all she wanted; I had Ben and Ben had me. Ben was my bigger brother who loved me unconditionally _. He was my bigger brother, and he was the best._  


Who cared if I didn’t have a father?

Who cared if my mother hated to see me every day, the result of the worst mistake of her life?

Who cared if neither of my parents wanted me?

I had Ben, and he wanted me.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title and summary suck. Seriously, they suck.
> 
> God-damn another Mary Sue.
> 
> Yup, because I post my most least-liked fanfics I write on here, they generally are my Sues.
> 
> But meh.


End file.
